And crimson drops at morning lay Next evening shone the waxing moon As brightly as before; The deer upon the grassy mead But ere that crescent moon was old, Now woods have overgrown the mead, There shrieks the hovering hawk at noon, DAYBREAK A wind came up out of the sea, And said, "O mists, make room for me." It hailed the ships, and cried, “Sail on, And hurried landward far away, It said unto the forest, "Shout! It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, And o'er the farms, "O Chanticleer, It whispered to the fields of corn, It shouted through the belfry-tower, It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, THE FINDING OF THE LYRE There lay upon the ocean's shore A What once a tortoise served to cover. and more, with rush and roar, year Had played with it, and flung it by, As wind and weather might decide it, Then tossed it high where sand-drifts dry Cheap burial might provide it. It rested there to bleach or tan, The rains had soaked, the suns had burned it; With many a ban the fisherman Had stumbled o'er and spurned it; And there the fisher-girl would stay, So there it lay, through wet and dry, And, having mused upon it, "Why, here,” cried he, “the thing of things In shape, material, and dimension! Give it but strings, and, lo, it sings, A wonderful invention!" So said, so done; the chords he strained, Dead shell, of soul and thought forsaken, In thee what songs should waken! — Lowell. TO A WATERFOWL Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean side? There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, The desert and illimitable air, - All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near. And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart Deeply has sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright. — Bryant. THERE WAS A SOUND OF REVELRY There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather❜d then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamp shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it?—No; 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But, hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is—it is- the cannon's opening roar. - Byron. FROM OTHELLO Good name in man or woman, dear my lord, Who steals my purse steals trash; 'Tis something-nothing 'Twas mine -'tis his-and has been slave to thousands. But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him CARDINAL WOLSEY, ON BEING CAST OFF BY KING HENRY VIII Nay, then farewell! I've touch'd the highest point of all my greatness; And, from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting: I shall fall full surely So farewell to the little good you bear me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye! |